Love Will Lead You Back
by The Sound and the Fury
Summary: After a tragic hunting accident threatens to expose them, Jasper abandons the Cullens and resumes his former habits. But will the love of his adoptive family call to him over his thirst for human blood? WARNING: Corporal punishment, i.e. spanking.
1. You Never Said You'd Stay Forever

**Disclaimer:** All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended. Title song and lyrics used for chapter titles belong to Taylor Dayne. I hate that song. But it seemed to fit.

**o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o**

**Love Will Lead You Back**

******o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o**

"Dad." Something was horribly wrong; Edward had never called me at work before. My hand instinctively tightened on the telephone receiver, pressing it harder against my ear to block out the chatter from the nearby nurses' station. "Dad, you need to come home. Now. There's been an . . . an accident."

My son was not even attempting to conceal his panic, and I had to fight against letting my own voice mirror it. "I'm on my way," I promised, and the line abruptly went dead. I closed my eyes for a moment, still gripping the phone, praying that it would not turn out to be what I feared most of all.

An 'accident' in our family tended to have far more sinister implications than in most. While there was always the possibility, however slight, that I was mistaken, I was fairly certain no one had driven their car into a tree or fallen down a flight of stairs — if they had, I certainly would not have gotten a call at the hospital about it. None of them would _need_ a hospital. Or me, for that matter, though I would be expected to listen to — and laugh over — the story later.

No, an 'accident' meant that one of us . . . slipped up. The only question on my mind was _which one?_ In my heart I believed I already knew the answer, but would gladly have been proven wrong. And I was still holding out hope for some household tragedy rather than . . . that.

"Everything all right, Dr. Cullen?" One of the nurses, middle-aged yet still pretty in a matronly sort of way, had paused in her paperwork to stare at me curiously. Fortyish, with a teenage son, she always asked after my own children . . . and she remained the only female at the hospital under fifty who had not shown any romantic interest in me. It caused me no small amount of sorrow that she was often treated coldly by the other nurses; after her erstwhile husband broke her jaw and left arm, that audacious woman had the unmitigated temerity to file for divorce. Even yet, months after the need for campaign loyalties had ceased, she still wore her 'I Like Ike' button as if to prove to them — and the rest of the world — that she _could_ choose a good man when necessary, and stand firm on the decision.

"I hope so, Nurse Saslow," I replied, giving her a winning smile that I hoped would reassure her as I hung up the telephone. This woman has always been one of my favorite co-workers — she has such a kind disposition, and like many who have been nurses for years, her intuitive skills have been honed until they almost cross over into the superhuman. Despite our mutual respect for each other, and despite the fact that I have been alive — or, rather, existed — just under three centuries, this nurse has twenty years on my physical age, and I cannot bring myself to call her 'Betty' no matter how many times she asks me to. "My son is not feeling very well, but I doubt it to be serious."

"Oh, poor little lamb," she clucked, just like the proverbial mother hen, and I had to hide a smile at the idea of _any_ of my sons being described as 'lambs.' "My Benjy grumbles plenty about having to get up for school every day, but I'll wager your boy would trade places with him in two shakes of a duck's whiskers."

"He would indeed, ma'am. My wife tutors him, of course, and I personally would _prefer_ to learn under those circumstances . . . but I imagine the grass is always greener elsewhere." I sighed as I slipped the chart I had been reading back into its slot on the wall. "Would you kindly inform Dr. Halstead that I have stepped out?"

"Of course, Doctor. Tell Jasper I hope he feels better soon."

"Thank you, and I will." As quickly as possible without inviting undue attention, I retrieved my car from the hospital parking garage and raced towards our house, ostensibly to care for my epileptic son, Jasper.

In our many discussions on the topic before moving here, we considered — and rejected — all manner of conditions that might explain why our middle boy could not be confined to the schoolroom, nor make more than a few token appearances outside our home. Edward, fresh out of medical school and eager to have something to show for those incalculable hours spent memorizing the ICD, was ready with any number of creative, multisyllabic, impossible suggestions like _xeroderma pigmentosum_ and _osteogenesis imperfecta_. Perfect, even brilliant, in theory – particularly the former, which is really too close to the truth for comfort.

I, however, having seen more in one week of working at the hospital than Edward would in ten years of studying, understood that route to carry its own risk: curiosity. Those unfortunate enough to actually suffer from such maladies are not allowed to do so in private. Better than sixty years have passed since Joseph Merrick left this earth, but the public's thirst for sideshow freaks has not been satisfied in the least. The point is to _avoid_ attention, not court it like those _Queen for a Day_ radio contestants, who share their most intimate heartaches with complete strangers for a chance at earning the audience's vote of sympathy.

Finally, just before closing the sale on our little bungalow, it was decided that Jasper would, in addition to taking the surname 'Hale' and posing as Rosalie's twin brother, claim epilepsy as the reason for his rarely leaving the house. It worked like a charm — common enough not to label him some kind of freak, yet a reasonable explanation for why he could not sit under the fluorescent lights at school or visit too frequently the shopping centers or diners in the area.

As I wended my way impatiently home through the mid-town traffic, I reminded myself that we had been in this situation before, and would undoubtedly face it again . . . and again. There were contingency plans in place, and all that mattered was that the family stayed together. All true, and all somewhat comforting . . . yet still I cursed the imposed speed limits and the sluggish pace of the other drivers, in a huge hurry to reach the home that might not even be ours for more than a few hours. Twenty long, tedious minutes passed before I pulled into our garage, when I could have run the same distance in three.

It only required one quick look at their faces to know that neither Edward nor Esme had been the reason behind the frantic phone call. Yet the identical expressions of fear they wore destroyed any hope I had left that I had misunderstood Edward's message. Alice was seated on the davenport, cradling Jasper's head in her lap and gently, rhythmically stroking his hair. Jasper only stared blankly across the room at the fireplace, and did not stir even when I had taken several steps toward him.

"Jasper?" I asked uncertainly. "Look at me, son."

Jasper glanced up at my face, his crimson eyes pleading with me for only a moment before he slowly closed them. "I'm sorry," he whispered.

I shook my head, both to negate his apology and to clear my head. "It will be all right, son. Tell me what happened."

Jasper sat up reluctantly, and I noticed he kept his eyes averted. I could not help but feel grateful for this; it was truly disconcerting to see one of my family look that way. Jasper's hands — and I saw with a sickening start that they, too, were stained with blood — nervously played with the frayed edge of his trouser pocket. "I went out to hunt," my son began haltingly. "I went to those hills outside Glastonbury, the ones where we played baseball two months ago. I found — "

"You went hunting . . . _by yourself?_" I interrupted, incredulous. _Surely he knows better than that?_

"Yes, sir," he admitted.

I blew out a frustrated breath and waved my hand impatiently. "Go on."

"Um . . . so, I'd just found a deer and was ready to spring, but . . . then I smelled _her_. And, well . . ." Jasper shrugged helplessly. "I didn't really know what was happening until I'd already bitten her. And then it was too late."

_Too late . . ._ "What did you do when you . . . became aware again?" I asked him, pinching the bridge of my nose between my thumb and forefinger. Our next steps were crucial if we wished to avoid suspicion, and for that I required every detail of the incident.

"I just — I panicked. I ran." Jasper's voice was thick with emotion. "I'm sor — I just didn't know what to do."

"I heard him once he got close to here," Edward picked up the story. I nodded; the high school was only about two miles from our house, and Edward, bored as he was with the soporific sophomore experience, frequently monitored his mother and brother at the home he longed for seven hours a day. "I waited until the end of that class, and Alice was already in the Buick by the time I got to the parking lot."

"The others are still at school?" I asked, and Edward answered in the affirmative. "All right. I — let me have a moment to think." He nodded, hearing my unspoken request for him to abstain from reading my thoughts as I tried to find a way out of our current crisis. I began to pace slowly in front of the fireplace, weighing the options.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Jasper lie back down against Alice, and she resumed her gentle stroking of his hair. Edward wandered over to his piano, absently fingering the keys without letting any notes sound. I imagined that he was trying to brace himself for the impending separation — in the past, we had always left town immediately following a slip-up like this one, and the piano would hardly fit in any of the cars, even if Emmett got out and ran the whole way.

We were certainly able to do so — leave, that is — and on very short notice. It would only require a hurried phone call to the hospital, resigning my position due to one of several specific 'family emergencies' that I had practiced so often I could recite them without even a catch in my voice. Rosalie and Emmett would come home to find our cars packed with the barest necessities; they would quickly be apprised of the situation and given half an hour to fill their own suitcases. I checked my wristwatch; we could be on the road in less than three hours.

Yet as I paced, the rug beneath my shoes starting to blur as my thoughts took me elsewhere, I found that I was hesitant to start the process of cutting us off from this town, this home. Even as part of my mind screamed at me to leap into action, to pick up the _telephone_, at least, the calmer, more rational side of my brain protested that there might just be another option available.

Finally, I gave voice to my thoughts. "There have been times in the past when other vampires crossed our territory," I began, "and none of them were particularly careful about their . . . feeding habits. Always, however, the authorities determined the causes of the humans' deaths to be animal attacks. We could not help what others did, yet never did it endanger our positions. I see no reason why, provided the same conclusion is reached in regard to the woman, we cannot stay here the same way we would if others of our kind had been hunting on their way through."

Edward was not convinced. "But how can we know, until they come knocking? And for that matter, how can we be sure anyone will find the body? If I'm thinking of the right place, that field is absolutely in the middle of nowhere. It could be months before they find her!"

"There will undoubtedly be search parties, and one of them is bound to come . . . Jasper," I said, switching gears rapidly, "was there not a stream nearby? I seem to remember Alice losing the baseball there."

"Yes, sir." Jasper barely moved his lips while answering me, and his eyes remained closed.

"We will go there right now and move her body into the water," I said decidedly. "Hopefully, that will give the police a reasonable explanation as to why her blood is drained. Edward?"

Edward was already halfway to the door. Jasper made as if to disentangle himself from Alice's hold once again, but I stopped him. "Jasper, you had better stay here at home. It would — "

"I'm not going to sit here while you two clean up my mess," Jasper interrupted woodenly. "It's my mistake, and I'll help fix it."

"You've done enough already," Edward spat. "God knows we don't need you jumping some other — "

_"Edward!"_ I rarely raised my voice to any of them, but tormenting Jasper over an accident was crossing one of my few lines. "That was absolutely _not_ necessary. We all make mistakes, and Jasper only wants to help us rectify this one. Jasper," I said, returning my attention to him as Edward sulked over his scolding, "I appreciate your sense of responsibility, but it really is something of a further risk. Having just tasted human blood, you are more susceptible than ever, and three of us together are more likely to be seen." Jasper was staring at his hands again, which caused me to notice afresh the dried blood. "Go and clean up, son, and . . . best burn the clothing. We will likely be back well within an hour."

"Do you think you can stay out of trouble until then?" Edward snidely asked his brother, seemingly unable to control his mouth even after being warned. A low growl rumbled in my throat even as Alice let out a hiss from her place on the couch, but it was to me only that Edward muttered an apology before slamming out of the house. Jasper, who hadn't said so much as a word in his own defense, was slowly making his way upstairs, most likely towards the bathroom. I sighed, filled with dread at the thought of compounding the situation with a family row. But there was nothing to do except follow Edward outside. One consistency of life — vampire or human — is that one's problems can always be shelved for a later time. I have certainly never seen any of them disappear for lack of prompt attention.

* * *

It was not hard, once we reached the general area, to track Jasper's scent and follow, as well, the residual odor of human blood. The woman — really, not much more than a girl, I noticed with intense regret — was lying crumpled next to a flat rock on which I spotted a battered Gothic romance novel and a paper bakery sack with dark grease stains around the bottom. Every few seconds, the breeze would blow back the cover and several pages of the book, making them rustle like birds' wings before gently falling back into place.

"We should get rid of those," Edward whispered, and I saw that he was avoiding looking at the body.

I shook my head. "No, son. Leave them lay — there is nothing suspicious about the items, and everything right now points to her being surprised by a predatory animal." I carefully hefted the frail woman-child and brought her body to the nearby stream, gently easing her into the churning water. As Edward surveyed the scene, looking for anything out of place, I closed the eyes of the girl who was uncomfortably near in age to my own daughters. They were green — close to the same color Edward's had been — and they held no accusation, only surprise and terror. Still, I felt better when they weren't staring at me, asking me _why_, and as I always do at the hospital when a patient is lost despite our best efforts, I pushed the grief and anguish to the back of my mind where it would not distract me from the task at hand.

By the time we reached home, Rosalie and Emmett had already returned from school, albeit slightly earlier than usual. "I didn't see Edward in shop," Emmett told me — shop classes at the small school were not separated by grade — "and Rose was supposed to talk to Alice after fifth period. We thought something must be up." He gave Jasper a sidelong glance. "Mom told us what happened."

"Edward and I have taken care of it," I assured Emmett, briefly summarizing our actions in the woods. Jasper, dressed in fresh clothes and with the traces of blood gone from his hands, stood mutely in the corner as he listened to me. Alice and Esme were not in the room, though I could hear them speaking in low tones upstairs. "And now," I finished tiredly, "we wait."

"Why can't we just bring it — her — somewhere else? Somewhere she won't ever be found?" Emmett asked. "Or cremate her, or something? That way we wouldn't have to worry about any of this."

"And what of her family?" I asked my 'eldest' son. "Do they not deserve closure? Are they to spend the rest of their lives wondering what happened, holding onto false hope that one day she will return? Were it Rosalie, would you be able to forgive the cowards who allowed you to suffer in order that their lives would be free of worry?"

Emmett hung his head, and I imagine he would have blushed, were he still human. "No, I wouldn't," he muttered, wrapping his arm around his mate and giving her a squeeze. "Sorry, Dad. I just don't . . . I just want it over."

I sighed. "I know that, Emmett. I wish it were over, as well. But we have done what we can, and all we can do now is pray that it ends the way it is supposed to."

"So we just have to sit here and wait for everything to come crashing down on us?" Edward asked, frustrated.

"Edward," I warned my son, who was glaring at Jasper and clenching his fists at his sides, "that is _enough._ A modicum of patience may save us having to move. I understand it is hard to sit still when you wish to run, but our whole life here is at stake."

Edward snarled and stormed out of the house; I watched as he crossed the backyard in two strides and disappeared into the forest beyond. As nervous as his absence made me at a time like this, it was probably for the best. Edward always went for a run when he was under any kind of stress, and I hoped that the exercise and solitude would serve to calm him down, as well as giving Jasper a much-needed break from his brother's calumny.

* * *

Time means something different when one is locked eternally in an ageless continuum of existence. Our routines, which can be tedious at the best of times, grated even more on the nerves for the weeks that followed as we focused on playing our roles to perfection. The children were suddenly more conscientious about their school attendance than was their wont, except for the two days when the sun decided to make an appearance. My hospital schedule remained the same, and other than reassuring Nurse Saslow that Jasper had simply suffered a worse-than-usual headache, I encountered no difficulties there.

Aileen Ricker's disappearance did rate the front page, even in our small-town paper fifty miles from where she lived, but only as a two-column spot story and photo below the fold. As no one had seen or heard from the missing woman since the night before her actual disappearance, most of the spot was devoted to a brief biography and a plea by her mother for her safe return. I was torn between wanting Jasper to read the story — in the hopes that it might drive the lesson home that she was a real person with a family and career who had paid for his overconfidence — and not wishing to torture my son with what was past fixing. My inner struggle became moot, however, when someone found it necessary to cut out the article and pin it to Jasper's bedroom door. Someone who quickly found himself grounded, I might add.

"That's not fair!" Edward protested hotly. "A whole week, just for being honest? Emmett got a spanking back in the winter for roughing up that idiot Markowicz at school. Jasper _killed_ someone, and didn't even get a lecture!"

"What consequences Jasper faces are at my discretion, not yours, son," I replied evenly, keeping my temper in check. "And he _will_ face them, once this is over. For now, perhaps a week without your music will serve to remind you that I will not tolerate deliberate cruelty merely because it is in response to what _you_ see as a greater crime." The look Edward gave me could have frozen Hell over in a heartbeat, but he knew better than to argue, and settled his feelings by slamming just about every door in the house.

I did, in fact, have every intention of carrying out Jasper's punishment. Not for his accidental killing of Miss Ricker — it _was_ an accident, and as far as I was concerned, he was already forgiven — but for hunting alone, and in an unfamiliar area. I kept putting off the dreaded task, however — I suppose I believed that it was premature to do so before the situation had been fully resolved. The point of the punishment would be to bring closure; with everything hinging on the finding of the body and the determination of the medical examiner, doing so now would prove a fruitless exercise.

* * *

When, about five weeks later, Aileen's body was finally found, that was only second-page news, overshadowed as it was by the signing of the armistice. Due to the heat, even the paltry New England version of it, and the fact that the body was partially submerged in running water, she had decomposed almost beyond immediate recognition. Had there been anything suspicious about her injuries, the evidence had long since been carried away by the stream and the rain that had fallen intermittently ever since.

We did not, of course, take delivery of the newspaper, feeling that the fewer people who approached our home, the better. While a sudden request for a subscription might not have raised any eyebrows, I preferred not to test that theory. There was always a paper or two lying around the hospital, however, and I had taken to arriving ten minutes early so as to peruse it quickly before starting work for the day. Each evening, my arrival home was heralded by six apprehensive faces, all waiting for me to say the word that would end their torturous anticipation once and for all.

As it turned out, I did not have to resort to subterfuge in obtaining a paper when that day finally came. Everyone was lining up for that Monday's front-page story about the long-anticipated end to the fighting in Korea. In fact, I was even able to leave work early that day, citing my need to share the happy news with my family. Which was not a lie, of course — I never did specify which happy news I would be sharing.

And, naturally, no one thought to ask.


	2. If You Must Go, I'll Set You Free

Edward had obviously heard my thoughts as I approached the house, for all of them, from Esme to Alice, were assembled in the living room by the time I came in the front door. I did not waste words on unnecessary preamble. "The police are certain that an animal is responsible," I informed my family, noting their visible, almost palpable relief at this long-desired conclusion. "Evidently, the wound was ragged enough that they assumed the woman bled to death from it, and since she was found in the water, no one wonders at the lack of actual blood."

"So we don't have to move?" Rosalie asked. Alice, in the background, had leaped into Jasper's arms and buried her face in his neck. He absently stroked her back even as he watched me obliquely, tensed as he waited for me to finish.

"No, Rosalie. Provided we behave as normal and let the situation run its course, this need not be another Rochester," I replied pointedly. Rosalie looked away in embarrassment. I experienced a pang of remorse for bringing up her twenty-year-old indiscretion, but felt the need to remind her that none of us is perfect. "Jasper?"

"Yes, sir?" he asked softly, dropping his gaze.

"Why don't you go upstairs to your bedroom, son." It wasn't a question, and he knew it. "We need to have a talk." Now that the long wait for absolution was over, I had decided to get Jasper's punishment over with as quickly as possible. That way, we could all start over with a clean slate.

I saw Alice give Jasper an extra-hard squeeze before letting him loose from her embrace. My young daughter knew what would happen; even if she had not 'seen' it already, she would easily have guessed. I do not spank my children frequently, but there had been a few occasions since she and Jasper joined us. Alice stared at my face pleadingly as her husband quietly walked past me up the stairs, and I gave her a small smile that I meant to be reassuring. I hoped she did not believe I would ever treat Jasper — or _any_ of them — cruelly.

"Dad?" I turned to find Edward standing by me, shamefaced, hands crammed in his pockets. "I, uh . . . I was supposed to go hunting with him that day, but I went to school anyway," he admitted sheepishly. "We'd all missed so many classes lately because of the weather, and what with finals coming and all . . . I figured it could wait. I never thought for a second he'd go alone."

It was obviously hard for Edward to admit this to me, particularly since he had been so hostile toward his brother for hunting alone in the first place. "Thank you for telling me, Edward. But the decision was Jasper's, and he knew better." Edward's face was still twisted with guilt, so I gave his shoulder a firm yet comforting squeeze. "We all have made mistakes, son, and will continue to make them. You are not your brother's keeper."

Edward looked down at his shoes and nodded. I doubted very much that he would let himself off the hook anytime soon, but I was quite encouraged to find that he had been willing to speak up on Jasper's behalf, despite the often acrimonious relationship the two shared. Our children may fight amongst themselves, but for all that, any of them would defend the others to the death. Jasper was not Edward's favorite sibling, by any means, but the familial bond was still there, just under the surface. Seeing the evidence right here in my 'youngest' made me realize anew that our family would always manage to survive whatever trials we faced. Nietzsche may be correct in calling hope the worst of all evils, but that is one evil I am perfectly willing to perpetuate indefinitely.

When I entered his and Alice's room, Jasper was sitting on the edge of their bed, his head in his hands and his elbows resting on his knees. He looked up as I came in and shut the door behind me, and I had to repress a shudder at seeing those tainted eyes staring at me so directly for the first time since the accident. Though not exactly crimson, not after five weeks, they were still distinctly red. I immediately regretted feeling such horror, however; Jasper's face crumpled as he picked up on that particular emotion.

"I'm so sorry," he whimpered. "I swear it was an accident. I didn't want to be a monster."

"I know it was an accident, son. I do not see you as a monster," I reassured the distressed young man. "You will, however, be receiving a spanking for your carelessness." Jasper recoiled slightly, but he nodded his understanding. Like Alice, he had witnessed his siblings being taken to my study on more than one occasion, and knew how discipline was administered in this family.

In the three years that Jasper has been part of our household, I have never had to spank him. Despite his issues with self-control, my newest 'son' is truly a kind and gentle young man. His courtly manners ensure that he gets along perfectly with Esme and Rosalie, and naturally he worships Alice. Edward and Emmett try to engage him in their activities, but with them he maintains a careful distance, emotionally as well as physically. I wish the three boys could behave more like brothers . . . three years, it seems to me, should have been enough for the ice to break between them.

Towards me, Jasper has always behaved rather coldly. Not that he is ever disrespectful, of course — only that he does not speak to me beyond a few necessary words, and he spends most of his time avoiding everyone save his pixie wife. At first, I attributed his reticence to the fact that he had spent most of his 'life' in a coven with a strictly-enforced hierarchy, and had no frame of reference for our family structure. As time went on, however, it became clear to me that it just was not Jasper's nature to form close attachments – the exception, of course, being Alice. Even after Jasper came to accept Esme and me as, for all intents and purposes, his parents, there was still a chasm between us that I feared could never be bridged. Never had I been addressed as 'Dad' by him, as the others — save Alice, who usually called me 'Daddy' — tended to do, nor was Esme ever 'Mom' despite her having repeatedly pleaded with him to call her by that name. Evidently, Jasper's biological family had not been particularly close, either.

As it was Jasper's first time being punished this way, I felt some clarification was in order. "I am unaware of just how much, if anything, you have heard from your brothers on this subject," I began, "but I want you to understand that I am not angry with you, son. We all make mistakes. Your punishment will hurt, as it must in order to make an impression, but I would never go so far as to physically harm you. In a moment, I will ask that you take down your trousers and bend across the bed, and there you will remain until I give you leave to stand. I will not tolerate histrionics, but you may cry as much as you need so long as you do not try to interfere. Are we clear?"

"Yes, sir," Jasper replied, low.

"Tell me why you are being punished, Jasper," I ordered him, but gently.

My reserved son, whose soft voice always reverted to its original Southern drawl when he was particularly agitated, bent his head in shame. "'Cause Ah hurt that lady so bad, and almost messed up our whole life heah."

I fought to keep my temper; how ironic would it be if I were to lose control while lecturing Jasper on losing control? "No, Jasper, you have misunderstood. You are not being punished for killing Aileen. Do you really believe a spanking would nullify the taking of a human life? It was a regrettable tragedy, but a mistake we have all made at some point."

"_You_ haven't," he muttered.

"What makes this particular regression so terrible is that it could easily have been prevented," I continued, choosing to ignore his interruption. "Edward has admitted to me that he backed out of your plans for hunting together, and he feels partly responsible for your actions. I understand that you need to hunt more frequently than we do, we who have had years of experience in taming our thirst. But you are responsible for taking extra precautions. You should have come to me and let me know you needed help. You know better than to go by yourself."

"I ain't a little kid," Jasper protested, "what needs his hand held all the tahm!"

My eyes narrowed at his tone and rebellious statement. "You are acting like a child right now, young man. Is this about pride? Did you leave on your own because you could not admit weakness?"

"Ah've been with y'all three years now," he cried. "And Edward all concerned when he had to leave for school, like Ah can't be let out my cage or somethin'! Three yeahs, and Ah can't even _go_ to school! The rest of 'em don't have to stay home all the tahm. I know they all think Ah'm some kind of animal; Ah can tell what they thinkin'."

"You cannot compare yourself to the others," I told my son, guilty for not realizing sooner just how much he felt like an outcast in our family. "You have been drinking human blood for ninety years, far longer than any of them have even existed. Three years it has been, and this is your first . . . accident. You must not become discouraged now, Jasper."

"Ah dunno if Ah can start over again," he replied, sounding tired.

"You must."

"Ah can't!" Jasper burst out, and I was taken aback by the sheer torturous despair in his voice. "Ah tried, Cahlisle, Ah swear to you Ah tried. It's too late for me; Ah just can't ever be like the rest of you. Ah tried so damned hard . . ." Jasper's voice choked off at the end, but he took a deep breath and continued. "Maybe it would be different if Ah'd . . . if Ah'd found you sooner," he said, "but . . . it's just too hard." He hunched his shoulders and sat tensed, as if waiting for me to attack him.

It was a long time before I could trust myself to answer. The situation was a great deal worse than I had originally suspected. Punishing Jasper at this point would accomplish nothing; he would still labor under the misconception that he was being spanked for accidentally killing the young woman, as if somehow the former would even come close to erasing the latter. How to make him understand that this was a risk we faced practically every day, and that only constant vigilance and a sincere desire to rise above our circumstances could prevent such accidents from occurring?

As I stood, undecided, an idea began forming. It was risky, and did not appeal to me at first, as it involved hurting this already-vulnerable young man still further. But he was so willing to sacrifice himself for others, or for his honor . . . how else to turn that self-loathing around and guide, rather than force, Jasper toward the right decision?

"It would appear, then, that you have a choice to make," I finally replied. "No one of us is perfect, Jasper. You have the option to admit that you are no different, accept the punishment for your carelessness, and return to living one day at a time, striving all the while to let your better nature overcome your instincts."

"Ah dunno if Ah can," Jasper whispered, his eyes tortured from the shame of the admission.

I braced myself and forced my voice to remain cold, praying that I could carry it off . . . and that I was making the right decision. "If you are not willing to try, then there is no place for you in our family." I did not believe, in that moment, that my son's horrified expression would ever again be far from my mind. "Gather your things together, and leave this house tonight."

Jasper's shoulders sagged as he nodded in defeat. "Yes, sir." His voice was calmer now, resigned, and not so heavily accented. He stood and crossed the room to his closet, where he retrieved the tattered rucksack he had brought with him when he and Alice first joined us.

"Jasper." I placed my hand gently on his arm, and he paused with the sack in his hand, though he would not look at me. "It need not be this way, son. All I ask is that you try."

His voice was flat, devoid of any accent, inflection, or emotion. "I can't. I did try, and obviously I've failed. Alice was right; yours is the better way, perhaps the only way. But it's too late for me. Of course, I don't expect her to ever go back to what we were, and I'll do my best to help keep her from falling along with me."

Vampires' bodies are filled with venom, and they maintain extremely low temperatures. Yet were those things not true, I would swear my blood was running cold. "I beg your pardon? You intend to . . . to take Alice with you? Rip her away from our family?" My voice rose involuntarily, and I bit down hard on my tongue to check my temper.

"She is my wife," Jasper replied slowly. "We were together before we ever came here. How could only one of us leave?"

"That decision, of course, must lie with Alice," I replied, fighting to control the panic that was rising in me before he could sense it. "I would hope that you had enough . . . enough humanity left in you that you would not wish such a life on your mate."

He flinched at the words, and at the steel in my voice. "I would walk through flame for Alice," he said quietly. "But I know she'll insist on coming with me."

"As I said, that is her decision." Please, not my daughter . . . not my sweet little fairy . . . "One who cared about her safety might discourage her from doing so, however. If it be that she is fortunate enough to have taken such a lover." Jasper toyed with the brass buckles on his pack. "I can only hope that Alice is not sacrificed to your selfish needs." With that, I strode from the room, venting some of my frustration in slamming Jasper's door somewhat harder than necessary.

The living room was empty save for Alice, who had taken her usual place on the davenport. She looked up as I came into the room, her eyes questioning. "Is it over?" she asked me, confused.

I stood gazing at my petite daughter for a long moment, unsure of how to proceed. "Where are the others?" I asked, as much in an effort to stall as to ascertain who was still in the house just then.

"Rose and Emmett left for the diner, Mom's on the porch, and Edward's in his room." Yes, indeed, he was. I had not even noticed when Edward's record player began blaring "Wheel of Fortune" — my sensitive youngest son probably meant to camouflage the sounds of Jasper's spanking that way. The music served another purpose as well — I could speak privately with Alice without Jasper overhearing our conversation.

I sighed and sat down next to Alice on the couch. "Sweetheart, I know how much you and Jasper love each other," I began. "There is a bond between you that makes me ache inside to witness it. He is very disturbed right now, believing that he is too weak to continue on a diet of animal blood. I . . . we unfortunately exchanged some hard words, and I have asked him to leave if he is not willing to try again."

Alice looked aghast, and I rushed to explain. "Sweetheart, I don't _want_ him to go — for me, 'tis 'the most unkindest cut of all' that he would abandon us rather than start over. But I believe that Jasper will benefit from leaving for a short while and returning of his own volition. He expects that you will go with him. Of course, you must make that decision for yourself, and I will support you no matter what . . . but if you stay, I know it will bring him back that much sooner. Can you trust me?"

Alice nodded. "He will come back," she told me confidently, though her eyes held too much fear for my liking. "I know he will."

I gave her shoulders a squeeze. "Thank you, love. I can only hope that — "

Just then, Jasper appeared at the top of the stairs. "Alice, may I speak with you?" he asked, his voice distant, before turning around and re-entering their room. Alice slipped out from under my arm and followed her husband, turning to give me a reassuring smile before closing the door behind her. I stood up and headed out to the screened-in patio, where my wife sat waiting in the cool evening stillness.

Esme laid down her book and stared at me expectantly, her hands folded in her lap. Whenever I am compelled to punish one of the children, I always go to my wife afterwards, so that she can tell me I did the right thing and not to worry so much — they do not hate me, and I am a wonderful father, and whatever else she can think of. Just hearing her sweet voice telling me those things, true or not, is as salve on a wound to my overactive conscience. This time, however, it would be my duty to soothe Esme as our changed circumstances were laid out for her. My unbeating heart ached for my wife, who would soon be bereft of one of her brood. As I met her questioning gaze and tried to find words that would comfort her, it seemed that all my hidden doubts and regrets were suddenly surfacing at once, as if to deliberately obfuscate reason with wave upon wave of gripping, paralyzing fear.

I may never know exactly what was said during their interview, but my daughter's face when she followed Jasper out to where we sat not ten minutes later will haunt me for the rest of my existence, if I live ten thousand years and witness the end of the world by nuclear holocaust, or ice swiftly forming under the faded glow of an ancient sun. Jasper paused in front of the screen door and turned to look at us, shifting his pack higher on his shoulder as he did so, although there did not appear to be much in it. His eyes were eerily devoid of emotion, and despite the fact that we had acted as his parents for the past three years, I realized just then that to this tortured soul, we were as strangers for all that. Jasper's expression was stony, but there was something in his voice as he spoke, some small catch, that belied his façade of nonchalance. "Please take care of Alice," was all he asked, however.

Esme could not suppress a plea for him to stay. "Darling, you needn't leave us like this. We can help you; please don't go away." She had begun to cry as I told her of Jasper's decision, dry, tearless sobs that hurt me greatly to hear and caused me to doubt even more the gamble I had taken.

Jasper shook his head. "I can't put your family at risk any longer." Esme and I both flinched at his use of 'your.' Alice suddenly launched her tiny form at her husband as if to pull him bodily back into the house, but he only gently pried her arms from around his waist and stepped away, keeping her at arm's length. Alice emitted a low, almost animal whine before she began to cry along with her mother. "I truly am sorry for the trouble I've caused y'all," Jasper said, an ominous note of finality in his tone. His eyes were now those of a dying man just before the final turn of the rack, but one who refused to cry out or beg for mercy, even to save his life. And somewhere in the commotion of my wife's sobs and Alice's piercing wails of anguish, my quietest son walked out the door, into the thick forest, and disappeared from our lives — who knew, then, for how long?


	3. One of These Days

"Daddy?"

That sweet little voice had never failed to bring a smile to my face, and this time was no exception. Particularly as it had been such a long while since I had heard my daughter speak out of turn — once bubbly and enthusiastic, treating each day like a surprise package wrapped up in shiny paper, Alice had, over the past ten months, wilted like a flower ripped from the earth and left too long in the hot sun.

"Are you busy?" she asked timidly.

As if I anything I did could be more important than one of my children. I smiled and held out my arms for my sweetheart. She climbed nimbly into my lap, curling up against my chest and nuzzling her forehead into my collarbone. I tilted my face until her soft brown hair pressed my cheek, breathing in her delicate floral scent. We sat that way for a long while before Alice spoke.

"Daddy, it's been almost a year now," she murmured brokenly, and I sighed when I realized she was thinking about him. Not that I was in the least surprised; only that I would trade everything I had just to give her five minutes of peace from the regrets that tormented her. "Why doesn't he come home?" My little pixie began to shudder with dry sobs.

"I don't know, baby," I whispered back, fighting the urge to cry along with her. "I thought he would be back sooner than this, truly I did, or I would never have put you through such hell."

"I've been thinking . . ." Alice laced her tiny fingers in between mine, and it nearly broke me to see just how frail they looked. "I thought it would make him want to change, knowing I was waiting here. That's why I stayed. I thought you were right, and I still think that, even now. But . . . I can't be without him . . . without _Jasper_ . . . much longer," she finished in a whisper. It was the first time she had referred to her mate by name since he left us so long ago. "I have to find him, Daddy. No matter what he did, or is doing, or whether he ever comes back to you . . . Jasper is my life."

"I would not stop you, my love, although it would tear me into pieces to lose you, too," I said. "Sweetheart, I made a decision that I saw to be right at the time. I thought that if Jasper felt he was acting on his own impulses, rather than being forced to comply with our rules, he would come back on his own, and the better for having chosen freely this life of ours." I took a deep breath. "I was . . . mistaken. I was so sure that he would miss the love we all tried so hard to show him."

"I don't think you were mistaken. But I can't understand why he won't come back." Her bony frame shivered in the nest she had made in my arms. "I see him sometimes . . . small things, like where he's going to stay for the day or . . . or what he'll _eat_ . . . but nothing to indicate he's thinking about coming back, and I haven't been able to sense anything for _weeks_ now, and . . . and . . ."

"You are afraid that he has not returned because he _cannot_," I said slowly. "I see." I sighed, knowing that it was not right to stop her seeking out her mate, but loath to let her go all the same. "I will speak to your mother . . . Alice?"

"Yes?" Always so trusting. Could I ask her to trust me again? What if I were wrong?

"Will you wait a very little longer, darling? I fear your mother will be overwhelmed at losing another child, particularly if it were to happen suddenly."

"Of course, Daddy." She would never wish to hurt Esme, and I felt ill at the thought of using her mother's love against her. But I worried enough over my son, who was more than capable of taking care of himself. How could I possibly bear to relinquish my tiny daughter, as well, to a life of nomadic horrors?

* * *

I have never liked to think of myself as a coward, but I admit that I cringed from holding that conversation with my wife, despite the desired effect of letting time soften the blow of Alice's departure. Alice, and what it cost her I do not know, waited patiently for my leave to follow after Jasper. I am not sure how much time would have passed in this fashion; three weeks had gone by already when one evening, my study door was flung open without so much as a knock.

"He's here, Dad! Outside in the yard — that's his scent, I know it!"

There was no need for Alice to elaborate — we both knew which 'he' she was referring to. I closed my book with a snap, and within seconds I was downstairs, Alice close on my heels. "Emmett, Edward, outside, quickly!" I barked at my sons, who were playing that ridiculous board game _Candyland_ on the living-room floor again. I could not believe that, at a time like this, I even cared what they did with their unlimited time, but that is how the mind works. I gave up long ago trying to understand it.

The boys, whether they fully understood the situation or not, were quick to obey me. Once outside, I explained that Alice had caught Jasper's scent in the yard. "Emmett, go out in the backyard and check the forest; Edward, try the sides of the house. I will go down the driveway towards the road."

It took only a moment to reach the lane, though our driveway is almost three-quarters of a mile long. At no point did I detect Jasper's scent, nor did I see any evidence that anyone had been there. To be sure, I ran a good mile down the road, then returned at a human pace, lest I had missed something in my haste. However, there was nothing — no smell, no shoeprint in the mud, no scrap of fabric caught on the underbrush. Jasper, if he had indeed returned, had not passed this way.

I waited anxiously on the front porch for my boys, all the while acutely aware that Alice was just inside, expecting us to return with her mate any moment, and probably growing increasingly frantic at our prolonged absence. It was a relief when my two sons came around the side of the house, but when they did, they were unaccompanied. I searched their faces for information, but Edward shook his head at me, and Emmett only shrugged helplessly and splayed out his hands, palms up.

I growled in frustration. "_Was_ he here?" I asked them.

"I didn't pick up his scent," Edward told me.

"Emmett?"

Emmett shook his head. "Nope. I didn't smell him, either."

"Alice was mistaken," I said under my breath. "And she was so hopeful. This is going to hurt your sister terribly." My shoulders sagged, and Edward snarled as he picked up on my thoughts. He muttered something too low for even my vampire ears to detect, but I had a feeling I was better off not knowing what it was.

Alice was waiting in the living room, peering anxiously out the window. She looked up expectantly as we three filed into the house, but her eager expression fell when Edward closed the door behind him. "Where's . . . ?"

I looked at her disappointed face and thought I might just be able to cry for the first time in almost three hundred years. "I am sorry, sweetheart. It was a mistake. Jasper is not here."

"That's impossible — don't you think I know his scent?" she cried.

"No, Alice," Edward murmured, perching on the sofa arm and stroking his sister's hair. "I know you miss him, but he's not out there. I'm so sorry."

"You're all wrong." Alice's eyes, so long dulled by the pain of losing her only love, now shone bright with hope and excitement. "He's come back."

"Then where is he?" Emmett reasoned with her.

"You scared him away! He'll come back, I know he will — you just made him nervous, is all." Alice settled back contentedly against the sofa cushions.

Edward and Emmett and I shared a look over Alice's head. This was bad, very bad, and my sons' eyes mirrored my concern. But three of us had gone out searching and found nothing. What else was there to do?

"Daddy?"

"What, sweet girl?" _If it is in my power, you shall have it, a hundred times over . . ._

"If he comes back . . . this time, you won't let him leave again, will you?"

'What's gone and what's past help should be past grief,' but Alice's innocent plea struck me as an accusation, and ripped open afresh the memory of the last time Jasper and I had spoken, as well as the guilt I had never completely managed to bury. My voice hitched in my throat as I answered, "Jasper is welcome here any time he wishes, Alice, you know that."

"I don't understand why I still can't see him," Alice fretted. Her face brightened. "Maybe he'll try our window tonight!" With that, she got up from the sofa and tripped lightly up the stairs, leaving the three of us with our mouths open, and making me wish fervently that vampires could be sedated.

"I don't know what honks me off the most," Emmett growled. "Jasper being such a goddamn dipshit as to leave in the first place, or — "

"Or the entirely inappropriate language his departure seems to have inspired?" I murmured distantly, still staring after Alice.

Emmett had the grace to look sheepish. "Uh, right . . . sorry, Dad. Well, I'm just saying that if he really came here tonight and left, after getting Alice all f — worked up, then he'd better watch out if I ever see him again."

"Your brother is welcome here anytime," I repeated firmly, turning to give my sons each a warning look in turn. "Even if you disagree with me, you will accept him for Alice's sake, I am certain. And if I hear any more of the language, the speaker will not be sitting anytime soon." Both boys looked properly abashed, and they murmured their apologies before returning to the game they had abandoned to search for Jasper.

Edward and Emmett understood, then, that Jasper was to be welcomed back with no recriminations. But — and this was infinitely more important — did Jasper?

* * *

I am sure I heard the front door open, but with four teenagers in the house, one becomes accustomed to blocking out background noise. Even footsteps crashing up the stairs toward me are not unusual. It was not until someone — Edward, once I recovered enough to employ my sense of smell — began a frantic staccato rapping on my study door that I realized something out of the ordinary had occurred.

_Come —_

I had not even finished the thought before my son burst through the door and rushed over to my desk.

"Dad, I think . . . I must be crazy, but I think I smelled Jasper just now," Edward told me, his golden-brown eyes full of concern. "I don't know if maybe there's something of his lying around that's setting us off, or if I'm still thinking about last night, but I really thought . . ." His voice trailed off. "Thing is, if I can smell it, maybe Alice will, too, and I don't think it's . . ."

I stood up and, feeling quite the wave of déjà vu, hurried out of the study, though it was Edward who followed me down the stairs this time. "Let me go alone, son," I told him. "In case it _is_ . . . Could you please find some way to distract your sister?"

"Yeah, of course." He was gone in a flash, and I hoped he could keep Alice occupied long enough for me to find Jasper . . . or find out what was causing us this confusion.

Once I stood in the driveway, I realized Edward was correct. There _were_ traces of a scent both familiar and estranged to me, and it appeared that the intruder had come partway up the drive before doubling back into the shelter of the trees.

I walked slowly down the hill at the side of the house, though I could have made the journey in seconds had I been so inclined. I wanted Jasper, if it were indeed my boy, to feel comfortable with my approach. I did not believe little Alice could stand another disappointment. But also, I found that I was actually a tad angry with Jasper for toying with his bonded that way, whether he meant for her to be hurt or not. Let _him_ be the one to wait, tonight, even just for a few moments.

The scent grew stronger the closer I moved to the pines over by the western edge of the property, and now I realized that there were remnants of older smells, too. He _had _been here last night, perhaps even the night before. This place was downwind of the house, and I decided that Emmett and Edward must have skipped over the area, assuming that Jasper would approach from the forest behind or straight up the driveway. I felt guilty, once again, for doubting sweet Alice.

* * *

Jasper had chosen to wait in shadows so deep that, even to my sensitive sight, he at first appeared to be part of the tree he stood against. But he looked up at my approach, and it gave me quite a start to see his pale face shining through the darkness. I halted, unsure of how to handle the situation, all the while drinking in the sight of the boy I had not seen in almost a year. On the ground beside his feet lay his rucksack, significantly more worn than before, and he fingered the strap absently while waiting for me to speak.

Much as I longed to close the distance between us and embrace my son, I forced myself to remain aloof and let him make the first move. Otherwise, I would not be able to help bringing up Alice, and the agony and terror that had nearly broken her . . . and I would never know whether Jasper came back because of Alice or because he truly wanted our way of life.

The silence appeared to unnerve the young man standing in the shadows, as he began to nervously shift his weight around. "Ah, uh . . . Ah — Ah was thinkin' Ah might just stop by, 'n' . . . 'n' see everyone," Jasper stuttered awkwardly, staring at the ground. I felt such a wrench of sympathy when I heard the tremor in his voice, and the heavy accent that betrayed his anxiety. It had obviously taken a great deal of courage for Jasper to come back here.

"Alice was sure she had caught your scent last night," I replied noncommittally, "but we assumed she had been . . . mistaken."

"Ah came 'round heah . . . uh, _here_ . . . for a minute, but . . . well, Ah didn't figure y'all'd let me come in," he admitted, scuffing one toe in the dirt.

"Would it have hurt you to ask?"

Jasper's gaze flickered to my face, and before he quickly looked away, I saw in the moonlight that the irises were no different in their coloring from my own. It was then I understood the purpose of his visit, and how long he must have been working toward it. My heart, or whatever passes for a heart in my vampire body and alternately breaks and mends clumsily with life's trials and sweet gifts, swelled with relief and gratitude for the second chance we might all be given . . . if I handled this correctly.

"Well . . . it'd'a hurt if you didn't say yes," he murmured.

"Try and see."

Jasper squared his shoulders and, finally, looked straight into my eyes. "May I come inside?" he asked me softly.

"Yes, Jasper. We shall all be glad to have you."

My son sighed, and his body relaxed as if a huge weight had been lifted off his back. He hefted the sack that had lain in the dust at his feet and trudged along beside me up the hill to the house. Again, we walked at a human pace . . . perhaps Jasper was not _that_ eager to face the family he had shunned for so long.

I doubted the others could have overheard our conversation even at that relatively short distance, but they would have sensed us approaching. The front door stood ajar, a bright rectangle shining into the night. Alice, so tiny from where we were, stood silhouetted against the welcoming light of home. Her hands were clasped calmly in front of her, as if she had been waiting patiently for this moment all along.

Jasper paused uncertainly on the front porch, as though unsure whether to expect an embrace or a slap from his beloved. He twirled the strap of his bag while trying to read Alice's blank expression. Finally, Jasper took a tentative step forward and reached out hesitantly towards her. His hand lightly grazed her face before cupping her cheek, tenderly stroking her pale skin. "Alice . . ." he whispered.

Her own little hand, lily-pale and achingly delicate, came up to touch _his_ face, and I left my children to their sweet reunion and entered the house. Esme was hovering in the foyer, her face anxious, but she visibly relaxed when I offered her a gentle smile, and she came willingly as I guided her into the living room. Emmett and Edward were standing in the middle of the floor, waiting for me. Rosalie lounged on the davenport, watching the television.

Edward was apologetic. "I _was_ trying to keep Alice from knowing what was happening, Dad, but all of a sudden she got this look on her face — this _blank_ look, the one she gets when she's having a vision — and she turned and went downstairs. Wouldn't even listen when I called after her."

"I imagine that a decision was finally reached just then which made the future certain," I replied slowly, belatedly realizing that Jasper must have been vacillating in his decisions of late — that was why Alice had been unable to 'see' him for so long. "Your brother has returned — whether for a visit, or for good, I cannot say. If it be that he wishes to remain here and try again, he will be welcomed, and nothing will be said about what is past."

My sons nodded. At that moment, the front door opened again and Alice tripped lightly in, leading Jasper by the hand like a toddler. As Jasper pulled against her grip long enough to close the door behind him, I gazed in wonder at my daughter's face, which was as animated and happy as ever it had been before her husband had left us so many months before. The others noticed it, too, and I saw Emmett and Edward share a grin. They, too, had become increasingly concerned for Alice as the weeks slipped by, and I had heard Edward threaten to rip Jasper apart if he ever dared show his face again. Emmett promised to hold him down while Edward worked.

But all that was forgotten as they watched their baby sister come back to life, as it were, before their very eyes. She led Jasper over to the sofa, and he followed somewhat reluctantly, though he met squarely all of our gazes in turn. Esme, who had never before been so forward with him, went straight up to Jasper and wrapped him in a tight embrace. He looked a bit wary at first, but as Esme was so obviously overjoyed to see him, he almost immediately relaxed and returned her gesture.

"I'm so glad you're home," she whispered softly. I expected Jasper to be embarrassed, but instead he only smiled and hugged his mother harder.

"I am, too," he answered her, low. She reluctantly released him after a moment, letting Jasper and Alice settle on the couch while she joined me on the loveseat. Emmett perched on the sofa arm next to the lovebirds, while Edward stretched out on the floor in front of the television.

"Good to have you back, man," Emmett murmured, tousling his brother's hair. Rosalie only gave him a civilized nod before returning her attention back to _I Love Lucy_, but I knew my daughter well enough to realize it was likely a front. Rosalie is not one for strong attachments, whether of love or loathing, but she and Jasper have always maintained a tacit understanding. Emmett is the exception . . . however, I often doubt that she is capable of bonding, even to him, the way Alice and Jasper or Esme and I have. I do not sense the same depth of feeling in my cold, blonde daughter, yet I love her for what she is.

Conversation flowed quite easily, much to my surprise, and several hours passed as our family, made whole and complete once again by the return of the prodigal, caught Jasper up on what he had missed while gone. From Jasper himself, we gleaned little information, although he did say he had spent most of his time with Peter and Charlotte. It was a relief to me to learn that he had at least been with friends — though they did drink humans, I had heard nothing but praise for them from my son — and had not fallen so far as to return to Maria.

Alice was so happy and contented that she only snuggled against her mate, saying little as she stroked his chest and purred deep in her throat. Even our silences were easy, companionable. Finally, though, when it was obvious that there was little else to share, I steeled myself for what I knew must be done and spoke. "I think we need to talk, Jasper," I told him.

He winced, but nodded his agreement. "Yes, sir."

"Upstairs, please."

In yet another instance of circumstances repeating themselves, Jasper headed up the stairs to his bedroom, leaving Alice behind on the sofa. She was initially reluctant to loose her hold on him, but as he leaned back toward her and murmured softly, her little body relaxed. I heard the words — 'tis not hard for a vampire to overhear anything — and even I believed my son when he told Alice, "I will never leave you again."

As Jasper trudged upstairs, I turned to my children and said, "I would ask that you all find something to occupy yourselves while I deal with your brother." Edward, Emmett, and Rosalie all scattered, and only Alice remained seated as Esme retired to the kitchen. I knew she would not move until it was time to comfort her beloved. Just as I had the last time, I gave her a reassuring smile, and this time, she returned it. It was an incredibly humbling experience to witness her absolute — though quite undeserved — trust in me. I had already abused it once, and had no intention of ever doing so again.


	4. Our Love Will Lead You Back

Jasper stood resolute in the center of the room, hands clasped behind him, appearing perfectly calm as I entered and shut the door behind me. It was a far cry from the Jasper of almost a year ago, sitting on the bed with his shoulders hunched, radiating fear and self-hatred. This Jasper was, perhaps, a bit wary, but looked me straight in the eye as he waited for me to make the first move.

I began to pace, wanting to weigh my words carefully before speaking. Despite the new confidence I had in my son, I was still somewhat nervous about offending him and making him leave again. But Jasper only waited patiently while I paced, his eyes lowered now — not out of fear or shame, but as if he did not wish to make me uncomfortable as I pondered. I struggled to find exactly the right words for this unusual situation.

"I was too hasty, I believe, in forcing an ultimatum upon you," I finally admitted, as an overture. "I forget, sometimes, the chasm that exists between our situations. Never having tasted human blood, I realize now that I do not have the right to judge you for your frustration."

"No," he contradicted me, shaking his head. "No, it . . . I did a lot of thinking, and I realized that I'd been wrong to give up. I haven't . . . I haven't any _right_ to give up. I guess I thought that because I didn't choose to become a vampire, it meant I was free to do what I wanted. I _wanted_ to be like you ever since Alice brought us here, so much. I tried, but it just seemed such a lot of effort for nothing.

"But," Jasper continued, "the whole time I was gone, besides feeling as if half my . . . uh, my soul . . . had been ripped out, I was thinking about how long you've been around, and, well, I know you've never tasted human blood, but it still took a long time before you could work in the hospital. So I figured that I could, too. Not work there, that is," he added hastily, "but learn to deal with the temptation the way you have. And even if I can't, I will try my hardest right up until the end."

"I am glad to hear it, Jasper." And I was. Jasper could never have guessed just how proud he made me with that simple statement. "You are ready, then, to accept your punishment and begin again?"

His face, if it were possible, seemed to grow even paler, but he nodded resolutely. "Yes, sir. Whatever you feel I deserve."

"Do you understand, now, what the spanking is for?" If he had not learned as much by now, I feared there was little I could do to help him.

Jasper lowered himself onto the bed and looked past me, struggling with memories too painful in one so young. "I . . . I killed a human, because I was too proud to ask for help," he whispered. "I wanted to prove that I was getting better, but it was too early, and when I smelled her . . . I put us all at risk because I wasn't careful."

"I am glad that you finally understand the distinction, son."

His eyes were tortured. "I killed other humans while I was gone, Carlisle."

"I expected you would, Jasper. I am disappointed, and yet I see that you have come back to our way," I told him, referring to his eyes that now matched ours, his adoptive family, whose love had called to him even over his instinctive thirst for human blood.

"And I hurt Alice," Jasper hissed, his face working touchingly as he fought with his emotions. "I tried to be the better person in leaving her here with her family, but now that I see what it did to her . . . I wish . . . my God, how could I have said those horrible things to my sweet little . . . I would _die_ for her, if it were possible . . ." Jasper's hands ran distractedly through his thick blond hair, yanking as if to tear it out by the roots.

"Yet her love brought you back to us," I replied. "That was her hope when she agreed not to seek you out."

"No . . . well, yes, I decided to come back because I couldn't be without her," Jasper corrected himself. "But . . . I _could_ have just taken her away with me. I'm certainly selfish enough, and I know she would have come if I'd asked her. I — I wanted to see _you_," he admitted. "I wanted to say I was sorry and show you I can do better, and . . . and ask for another chance."

"And you shall have it, my son."

He took a deep, unnecessary breath, whether out of relief or nervousness, I could not tell, then stood slowly, his hands hanging awkwardly at his sides. "Um . . . so, now?"

"Yes, right now." _As soon as possible, that we may finally move on._ "Take down your trousers, Jasper, and lie across the bed."

As his hands fumbled with his belt, I noted just how shabby his clothes had become. Alice would probably burn them; my little girl was quite the stickler for fashion, and I imagine it was only her blind joy at reuniting with her lover that saved him from being undressed right on the front porch. Jasper obeyed me quickly, dropping the tan pants to his ankles before bending over the curved edge of the footboard.

I moved until I was standing at his side, my insides quaking at the thought of what I was about to do. I loathe this part of being a father. But Jasper needed to know that he was forgiven, and how could he feel that way without being punished first? I noticed that his forehead was pressed against the backs of his hands, which were gripping handfuls of bedspread tightly enough to make the corners come undone. I placed my hand gently at the small of his back, hoping the gesture would reassure him and give him some feeling of safety. It hurt me deeply when he cringed away from the light touch.

"Jasper, I am not angry with you. Your punishment will hurt, but then it will be over and we will start again. Do you understand?"

"Yes, sir," came his barely discernible whisper.

I gave his back a gentle rub before raising my right hand to begin his spanking. As I do every time, I made the first smack a forceful one so as to catch Jasper's attention right away. While he started from the impact, he made no sound. Without pausing for a second, I began spanking him in earnest, alternating sides and attempting to always match the strength of the first.

I was baffled when, twenty smacks later, Jasper still had not made any noise. Even Emmett, big as he is, had never managed to take more than a dozen without some audible betrayal of discomfort. I was glad, in a way — if there is one thing I cannot abide, it is hearing my children in distress — but I knew better than to think that Jasper's silence meant he was not in pain.

"Jasper." He did not answer, and I worried, all of a sudden, that he _could _not. "Son, you have to let go. I cannot . . ." I closed my eyes tightly and swallowed hard. "I cannot stop your punishment until you cry."

"I understand." The words were whispered through clenched teeth.

His brothers had told him as much, then. Well, I could hardly expect Jasper, between his history and close nature when it came to feelings, to react the same way as Edward or Emmett. My other sons were hardly cowards, but . . . they did tend to act somewhat childishly whenever I had to punish them.

After still twenty more without any response from Jasper, though, I stopped again — this was getting ridiculous. "Jasper, enough. This is not helping anyone. Why must you be so obstinate?"

The response, when it came, was hardly what I expected. "Ah was second-in-command to the most sadistic warmonger among the Southern covens," he hissed. "Ah've had my limbs torn off for punishment before. You'll have to do better than that if you're lookin' to make me cry."

A wave of fury washed over me so suddenly that I reacted on instinct, smacking Jasper again, much harder than before. Instead of abating, my rage seemed to grow worse, and my son's silence only fueled my ire as I repeatedly struck at him. The tiny part of my mind that still held on to reason knew that this had moved beyond mere punishment, and that the force I was using was abusive. I was used to fighting successfully over my thirst at the hospital, but this was something new. I had no memory of anger like this, anger that bubbled up inside like white-hot magma, and therefore I was helpless against it even as I watched my son writhe in pain.

It was not very long — though to that spark of conscience that still kindled deep inside, far _too_ long — before Jasper's composure finally cracked, and he let out a high-pitched whine of distress. That piteous mewl was enough to break the spell even as I saw, for the first time, how the bedspread had torn in several places under his chest. Suddenly, the fury drained out of me just as quickly as it had set in, and in its wake I was left feeling absolutely horrified. What had I just_ done?_ I ceased my actions immediately, but as if Jasper felt the whine had been a sign of surrender, he started to cry for the first time since I had known him, great, shuddering sobs that wrenched my heart worse than Jasper was wrenching the bedspread.

"My God," I whispered, putting my hand to my mouth as the full import of the last moments became clear. After vowing always to make violence a last resort, and reassuring both Jasper and Alice that he would be safe, had I just _beaten_ my _son?_ Whatever could have possessed me to want to harm this boy whom I loved so very, very much?

"Jasper," I said pleadingly, "I am so very sorry . . . I cannot even tell you . . ." Jasper only continued to cry into the torn spread. "'Tis over, son," I murmured, gently running my hand back and forth over his shoulders. "Come, now. Stand up."

I was apprehensive as Jasper got to his feet and fumbled with his trousers. I could see his hands shaking as he tried to fasten the buttons. After his clothes were adjusted, Jasper slid his hands into his pockets and stood with his shoulders hunched, still crying softly. I reached out tentatively and took hold of his upper arm, pulling him down next to me as I sat on the bed. I winced along with him when his backside touched the mattress.

"Jasper, that rage I felt just now . . . that was your doing?" He nodded. _"Why?"_ I cried, frustrated and bewildered. "Why would you deliberately bring more pain on yourself? Did you _have_ to be so stubborn?" I placed my hands on his stiff shoulders and began to knead the tight muscles, trying to massage the tension out of them as I waited on his explanation.

Jasper's breath hitched as he tried to answer me. "I ain't a coward," he muttered.

I was shocked. "I never thought that of you, Jasper!" I replied forcefully. "There is nothing cowardly about crying during a spanking. Your brothers always do, and I never think less of them for it. And what manner of utterly _idiotic_ stunt was that, making me angry so I would punish you harder?!" I practically shouted.

I hardly ever raise my voice, yet Jasper seemed unfazed. And how could he feel differently, after the way I had treated him? "It made the other hurt go away, or at least it did while it was happening," Jasper reflected, rubbing at his forehead with the heel of his hand. "I've felt so guilty for so long . . . but for the first time, I felt like I was paying it back, somehow."

I sighed, feeling drained. "That is the reasoning behind a spanking — to expunge your guilt," I told Jasper. "I knew that you had already suffered so much shame that no punishment I could mete out would make a stronger impression. Sometimes, with your brothers, the spanking is necessary because they will not admit their mistake. With you, the point was to help heal the remorse. But . . . I was far too harsh," I admitted, feeling sick at the memory, "and much harder on you than ever I should have been. Nothing you did deserved that kind of punishment. I should have realized what was happening and stopped regardless."

"Ah wouldn't'a _let_ you stop. Wasn't no more than Ah deserved," Jasper muttered, "what with huntin' by myself, 'n' leavin' 'cause Ah was too lazy to try again, 'n' makin' Alice feel like she'd been abandoned . . ." He squirmed a bit, but whether from embarrassment, or discomfort from sitting on a sore bottom, I could not tell. "Ah sure don't think it was unfair."

I wrapped my arms around Jasper and pulled him close — he stiffened slightly at first, but gradually relaxed, and even hugged me back, burying his face in my shoulder as his body shook with the sobs he was trying too hard to hold in. "Shhh . . . let it go, Jasper," I whispered softly, gently rubbing his back and feeling content to hold him like this for hours — days, even, if that were what he needed. Jasper melted deeper into my arms, and I held on tight, as though he would disappear again were I not anchoring him somehow.

As I watched my son clinging to me so, I felt horribly guilty for not holding him more often when he was living here before. He did not make it easy, of course — the former soldier hardly felt comfortable with physical expressions of love, though I had caught him staring wistfully as Emmett and Edward and I wrestled, or when Esme and I gave the children their squeezes and strokes and other little signs of parental affection. Yet he would shy away when we tried the same with him.

It should not have mattered. My children shied away from being punished, as well, and it always hurt me terribly to chastise them. Yet I forced myself to do so, praying that I was helping them to become better people, and hoping against hope that the love I demonstrated infinitely more often would be enough to earn _their_ love in return. Jasper's reticence should not have alienated me; on the contrary, from now on I would concentrate on breaking down the barriers he had erected against an often cruel world that had nearly crushed him.

Too soon — for my liking, anyway — my son brought his sobbing under control and broke away from me, seating himself at a comfortable distance on the bed with his head bowed. I would have liked to go on holding him, offering comfort to alleviate the pain of the punishment I had been compelled to mete out, but I would hardly force myself upon him if he wished to be alone.

"I will be in my study, Jasper, and there you are welcome if at any time you need me," I told him, reaching out and smoothing back some of his disheveled hair. He nodded mutely, still staring at his hands, and I reluctantly got up and walked towards the door.

"Carlisle?"

"Yes, Jasper?" I replied, pausing with my hand on the doorknob.

He was fidgeting again, and I wondered if there was something else on his conscience. "Well, Ah wondered . . ." Still with the accent. What was he so nervous about yet? "Just . . . oh, nevah mind, it's nuthin'."

"Seems like 'nothing' gets you fairly worked up, as a rule," I replied, trying to sound lighthearted in the hopes Jasper would share his thoughts with me.

"Well, Ah was thinkin' that maybe . . . if Ah try real hahd and don't mess up for a while . . . if someday . . . just 'cause Emmett 'n' Edward already do, Ah-just-thought-maybe-Ah-could-call-you-Dad-too?" he finished in a rush.

I fiddled with the door handle, mostly so he would not see my hand shaking. "I hardly think that would be fair, Jasper," I told him, choosing my words carefully.

"No. No, Ah know. Ah'm sorry," Jasper answered quickly, his gaze dropping to the hands that were now clenched in his lap. I think if he could have blushed, his face would have been scarlet with embarrassment.

"You see," I continued, "Edward and Emmett do not call me 'Dad' when things are going well, only to refrain when they are not. It is not a privilege earned by good behavior, nor, for my part, a benefit to be proffered or rescinded as the mood strikes. My children are not my children conditionally. If you wish to call me 'Dad,' begin now, and do not vacillate back and forth."

His brow furrowed. "Oh."

"And, Jasper?" Once again, he had trouble meeting my eyes. I softened my tone. "I _would_ like to hear you call me 'Dad.' So much. So very, very much."

"'Kay. Ah . . . Ah reckon Ah will, then."

I smiled at his awkwardness. "I love you, son."

"Ah . . . _I_ love you, uh, too," he whispered, shamefaced.

"Dad," I prompted, after a moment.

Jasper's face lit up like a sunbeam as he repeated, at my urging, "Dad." Had my son ever smiled like that for me? No, not to my knowledge, and I hardly think I would have forgotten such a sight. Perhaps Alice had seen it, but I never had. I vowed then to do what I must to bring that gentleness out in this boy until it tamed the animal instincts that threatened him so terribly at times.

"Good night, Jasper," I said quietly, closing the door behind me and heading downstairs to the living room. Alice was waiting there, sitting perfectly still on the bench where the girls all drop their handbags when they come home. I smiled at my beautiful daughter to let her know that everything was all right. Her face, so long stretched taut with the pain of separation, was now smooth and serene again, though there was something in her eyes — some remnant of the suffering of so many months — that would never truly fade, no matter how many years might pass.

Alice stood, and on her way past me to go upstairs and join her mate, she paused to bury her face in my chest and whisper, "Thank you for bringing him back to us."

I caught up my little girl and crushed her in my arms, but felt the need to correct her misconception. "He came back on his own, Alice, you know that," I murmured.

Her little head shook back and forth vigorously against my shirt. "It was you," she said. "He came back because of _you_, because he wanted another chance to become part of the family you've built. If it were anyone else, Jasper would never have come home, nor even wanted to." She disengaged from my embrace, giving me that brilliant smile that brightens up the darkest days and makes me think the world is a wonderful place to be, after all. "I love you, Daddy."

As she scampered upstairs to join her husband, the other half of her being, I joined my own beloved in the kitchen. At the sound of my approach, Esme dropped the pencil that she had been sketching with and reached out for me. Gratefully, I slid onto the bench beside her and melted against my wife, burying my face in her neck and listening to her as she purred softly. Esme knows how I dread having to act as disciplinarian, and just what it takes out of me sometimes to be always the one in charge, the one responsible for keeping us together and safe. Sometimes — though, like most men, I am loath to admit it — I need someone to make me feel safe, also. My wife, though she may appear frail to the casual observer, is that someone.

It was the first time I had needed to punish the quietest of my children, but it would not be the last — because it is said that the best of intentions end up so many paving stones along the path to Hell, and that courage is _not_ courage unless the cause is lost even before it begins. Yet 'cowards die many times before their deaths,' and just as I expected Jasper to call me 'Dad' _all_ the time, not merely when he felt so inclined, so must I keep constant watch on him, ready with tender encouragement or swift correction as the need arose, and armed with love for my prodigal as we faced together our long, weary road back from perdition.

**The End**


End file.
